


I’m Getting a Bit Desperate Here, Mate

by orphan_account



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: M/M, fucking feelings, it was just supposed to be porn but somehow FEELINGS got involved, its another kinkmeme fill, oh boy, oh yeah and Wayne is trans, you can’t change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wayne tries to flirt with Wax. It’s a bit touch and go for a while, but he’s more or less successful.Fill for kinkmeme: “Wayne has been low key crushing on wax since they met and Wax is oblivious to his flirtations. Wayne has to become more and more obvious just to get laid. Ends up with Wayne finally getting his way. Can be fluffy or kinky, don't mind.”It’s... both? Man I Am Not Super Proud Of This It Is Not Very Good





	I’m Getting a Bit Desperate Here, Mate

**Author's Note:**

> hi so I wrote this, halfway through started having emotions, and then uh. Wax and Wayne started to have them too. 
> 
> There were supposed to be italics but ao3 is difficult sometimes and idk how i made that last fic even work???

I’m Getting a Bit Desperate Here, My Guy

Wax was a difficult man to flirt with. Wayne discovered this quickly.

He was dark, broody, a bit violent, but he was also insanely hot, and Wayne had set his sights. The only issue: how, exactly, to achieve his mission.

First, he had tried the best method of flirting: banter. Wayne was great at banter! And Wax was too, wouldn’t you know it?

However, Wax also assumed the bantering was platonic. So Wayne has changed tactics. He tried pick up lines.

It didn’t work.

(“Somebody call the cops, ‘cause it’s gotta be illegal to look that good!” Wayne said, embellishing it with a finger gun. Wax was... perplexed, to put it lightly. 

Marasi shot him a disgusted look. He grinned at her. She was just jealous she lost her chance at this fine piece of meat.)

Wax was oblivious to all of it.

(“Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you fallin’ for anyone else!” Wayne said. Wax cocked an eyebrow.

“I doubt my shoelaces are going to influence my gullibility.” He said dryly. It took a few moments for Wayne to wrap his head around the misunderstanding.)

It was nigh unbelievable, that a man who’d spent so long in the Roughs couldn’t understand when someone was flirting.

(“I know you’re busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list?” Wayne tried next.

Wax rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Wayne. I am busy, actually, so why don’t you go find someone else to bother?”

“But-“

“Besides, Steris writes the list, not me.” Wax added, holding up a sheet of paper full of Steris’ infuriatingly neat penmanship.)

For a moment, Wayne thought Wax was messing with him, but then he figured even Wax wouldn’t be that cruel.

(One final try. “I’d dance on the edge for you,” Wayne said, sliding up to Wax and wagging his eyebrows.

Wax did not understand this. Rusts, and the coach driver had been sure that would work, even if Wayne himself didn’t fully understand it.)

Alright, so he needed to try something else. 

He tried drawing out a plan on a board, like Wax always did. He’d ended up with a board covered in stick figures having sex. Like a Wax and Wayne board, without the Wax, and only the Wayne. And that was simply no good.

He sighed and shook his head. It was time to get outside help. From someone other than a snarky coach driver.

——

“Hey, Marasi, you were into Wax for a while, yeah?” Wayne plopped himself down in front of her, grinning. She didn’t seem to be very busy- they were in the middle of an investigation, but all she was doing was scratching at that notepad of hers.

She looked at him, visibly annoyed, and sighed. “Number one, get off my table, please. Number two- for about five minutes, yes. Not anymore,” she emphasized. “He’s-“

“Yeah, he’s Wax, I gotcha.” Wayne flapped a hand in her direction. “I’m not tryin’ to get the two of you together. Sorta the opposite, in fact.”

Marasi narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?” She paused. “Does this have to do with your constant flirting?”

Wayne groaned and thumped backward onto the table, laying flat. His hat fell off, and he stared down at it dismally. “How come you can tell, but he can’t?”

Marasi snorted. “Wax is incredibly thick, Wayne. Surely you’ve noticed?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Wayne muttered. “He seems to still think you like him. How did you do that? How do I do that?”

She shrugged, and absent mindedly scribbled something down. “Short of standing on a table and beg- um, confessing your feelings in clear terms-“

“No, no, what were you goin’ to say?” Wayne urged, grinning wider.

Marasi’s face flushed. “Never mind that, the-“

“Come on, you gotta tell me now!” He whined. 

“Wayne-“

“If you don’t, I will never leave you alone.” He warned.

“You already refuse to leave me alone,” she said under her breath,

“You don’t think I can be worse?” Wayne said in mock offense. “‘Cause I can be much worse-“

“Standing on a table and begging him to fuck you!” Marasi interrupted, speaking in a rush, cheeks practically glowing red.

Wayne considered this. “Now, that’s an idea,” he said thoughtfully.

Marasi paled. Surely that many changes in color can’t be healthy? “It was not a serious suggestion, I don’t actually think that’s a good idea!” 

“Well, I’m already on a table-“

Marasi stood and shoved him off said table, sending him sprawled to the floor with a grunt.

He swiped up his hat and peered up at her, still grinning. “That right there was just rude, Mara. Rude.”

It was also rude when she chased him out of the room, but Wayne can bounce back from betrayal, especially if the betrayer has given him a good idea. 

Great idea, in fact. It’s Wayne’s style, and blatant enough that even Wax has to understand it! Perfect indeed. He should ask Marasi for advice more often.

Not that he’ll tell her that, though. Wouldn’t want her to get a big head.

Now, how to pull it off?

——

Two days later found Wayne in Wax’s study, laid across the desk, naked save for his chest bindings and metalminds. It was somewhat late at night, and Wayne was expecting Wax to enter at any moment.

Any moment might have been a bit generous. The wait was a tad longer than Wayne thought it would be.

He’d knocked off all the papers before getting up there, too, so there was no chance of distraction. There had also been a half empty bottle of whiskey on the desk; Wayne stole that and finished it during the wait. It was fine, though, because in exchange, he’d put himself on the table. It was probably about equal.

Wayne settled in, restlessly watching the door. The whiskey was a pleasant buzz in his veins, and it took the edge off his impatience, but not by much.

In the silence, all the flaws in this plan began to wiggle out of the woodwork and bite at him. Like that this was not going work, but he knew that from the start. Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and distracted himself.

His legs were already splayed open, so it was easy to slip a hand down, and circle his clit. His tension eases somewhat, and yet- grows. 

Maybe Wax could help with that, if he’d ever rusting arrive. 

Wayne sighed, and dipped his fingers lower, gathering some of the dampness gathering between his legs and smoothing the way around his clit. His toes twitched.

He shifted, getting a better angle, and although he normally wasn’t one for slowness, he figured that getting ahead of himself would defeat the whole purpose of this little venture. He idly wondered what Wax was packing.

Wayne had never seen Wax completely naked, but he’d seen the man without a shirt, and threads of arousal unspooled through his veins as he remembered. Wax was lean and well muscled, and tall, and it would only make sense for him to have a dick that matched.

He was light, too, thanks to those bracers. Did he keep storing weight even while he had sex? Or did he tap weight? The ghostly imagined sensation of Wax straddling him, pinning him down, smirking, flashed through his mind. Wayne smirked too. It was a good image, he decided.

“Wayne.” Oh! That was Wax! Finally! The lawman stood by the door, hand over his eyes and mouth locked in a grimace. 

“Oi, Wax!” Wayne waved.

“What are you doing, and why are you naked?” Wax asked, voice tight. He did not sound happy. It’s a good thing he was sexy when he was angry.

“I’m layin’ on your desk, and I’m naked ‘cause I want you to fuck me. Obviously.” Wayne explained. Directness seemed be the best approach.

“Obviously,” Wax repeated, and scrubbed his hand down his face, but his eyes were still tightly closed. “Where did all my notes go?”

Wayne rolled his eyes. Here he was, on full display, baring his rusting soul (and some other bits), and Wax was concerned about his papers?

“Open your eyes and find out,” Wayne suggested. 

“No.” Wax said flatly. “Not until you put on some clothes.”

“But if I did that, how could you fuck me?” Wayne pointed out. Wax blushed. He actually blushed! That was about as adorable as a kitten yawning, if the kitten was also capable of killing you in like two seconds. So yeah, a kitten.

“I’m not- fucking you,” Wax growled. Through the door- still held ajar from Wax’s entrance- Wayne could faintly hear footsteps up the stairs.

“Lord Ladrien?” Wax’s new butler called. Wax’s eyes snapped open, and he turned, slamming the door shut. “Lord Ladrien, I made you tea-“

“No, thank you.” Wax said through gritted teeth. 

A pause. “Is everything alri-“

“Everything is fine.” He barked.

The butlers footsteps quickly disappeared. Good thing, too, because Wax’s eye was twitching. Wax turned back to him- Wayne wiggled his fingers invitingly- and then immediately faced the door again, wacking his forehead against the frame as he went.

“Ouch,” Wayne said in sympathy.

“Wayne, whatever game you’re playing, it needs to stop.” Wax said, his syllables clipped short.

Wayne frowned. “No game here, sir, just beggin’ you to fuck me.” He didn’t miss the way Wax’s shoulders stiffened when he said that. Was is ‘sir’ or ‘beg’ that he liked so much? Or was it both?

“I told you, I’m not fucking you!” Wax said, clearly frustrated, and still stubbornly standing by the door. Wayne needed to do something about that.

He hopped off the table, and walked over to him, hips swaying as he went. He’s come this far, he might as well go for it.

He stopped by Wax’s shoulder, and draped an arm across his back, snorting at his flinch.

“Calm down, I can hear your jaw grinding from here!” Wayne teased. “This ain’t a game, mate, or a joke neither. I’ve been flirtin’ with you for weeks now, Wax, it ain’t my fault you didn’t get the message, ‘cause I’ve sure been tryin! Seemed being all blunt was the only thing way to get it through,”

Wax shook his head. “‘Blunt’ meaning... this?”

“Well, yeah. S’it working?” Wayne asked cheekily, slipping a hand over Wax’s chest and gripping the lapel of his mist coat.

“Harmony help me,” Wax muttered, and suddenly whirled around, gripping Wayne around the waist and dragging him into a rough kiss.

Huh. Better ending than he expected.

Wayne hummed in pleasant surprise, and melted against him, tightening his grip on Wax’s coat, tugging him closer.

Wax kissed like it was a fight and he was dead set on winning. That was fine by Wayne. More than fine, in fact.

Slowly, he stepped back and brought Wax with him, leading him back to the table without ending the kiss. More comfortable there, he figured, though he couldn’t deny the rush of arousal he got from the idea of Wax pressing him against the door and fucking him right there.

The back of his thighs hit the desk, knocking their hips together- bare to clothed, and the contrast was delightful.

Wax finally tore away from the kiss, licking his lips and looking down at Wayne with an unreadable expression.

“You taste like whiskey,” he says abruptly. “You’re drunk, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. 

Wayne can feel him pulling away, dismissing this as some drunken whim, but he taps gold and tugs Wax back to him.

“Not anymore,” he informs him, and leans up, and kisses Wax soundly.

For a tense moment, Wax is still. Then- he melts slowly, and kisses Wayne deeply and softly, and it doesn’t feel like a battle anymore, it feels like something... stranger.

It scares Wayne. He craves it all the same.

Wax’s hands settle under Wayne’s thighs, and lift him onto the desk, and then he pushes his way forward between his legs. Wayne hums happily.

“I’m feelin’ underdressed here, not gonna lie,” he tells Wax. 

“Do something about it, then,” he replies.

Wayne grins and takes his cue. He slides his hands under Wax’s mist coat, and manages to awkwardly tug it off his arms. He smooths his hands up the shirt sleeves underneath, and his fingers find the buttons in his vest.

“So many layers!” Wayne admonishes.

Wax snorts. “You do realize I was not expecting this?”

“Well, next time, expect it,” he sniffs.

“And how, exactly?” 

Wayne doesn’t deign to answer him. Wax can figure it out on his own.

He manages to get the vest off, and then loses his patience, because Wax’s hands are on his skin and trailing up his ribs, tracing the divots between and then his mouth is on his neck, biting and kissing- Wayne decides the shirt can wait, and he goes for Wax’s pants, fumbling for a moment with the button but finally getting them undone.

Wax licks a stripe up Wayne’s jugular, and he keens, arching into the contact. He can feel Wax’s lips twitch upward against his neck. Wayne smiles too.

He hooks his fingers around the waist of Wax’s trousers and boxers, and pulls them both down at once, and eyes Wax’s cock, licking his lips. So it did match his build.

Wax pulls back, and opens his mouth to say something, but Wayne spits in his hand and gets a fist around the base of his newly freed cock, so when he tries to speak, all that comes out is a half formed groan.

Wayne’s smile becomes a wicked grin, and he pulls his hand upward, watching with rapture as Wax’s face twitches with pleasure.

“Rusts, Wayne,” he says, and his voice is deliciously husky. 

It only takes a few moments of this for Wayne to discover that Wax prefers a firm upstroke and smooth downstroke, and doesn’t particularly respond to ministrations on the head. He internally jots that down and sticks on the inside of his skull, to be mulled over and recalled later.

It also only takes a few moments for Wayne decides its time to move on to the best part (in his opinion) of the evening. He wraps his legs around Wax’s waist, and feels Wax shifting as he kicks off his shoes and pants, and pulls him closer until their hips are flushed, and Wax is sliding against Wayne’s entrance and it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. 

Wax pauses, and the grip he has over Wayne’s thigh changes, and slides up, brushing against the edge of his chest binding. Oh, yeah. That.

“Thought you weren’t supposed to do anything vigorous in these?” Wax murmurs, and Wayne quirks an eyebrow.

“Vigorous, huh?” He teases (deflects). “Someone’s excited.”

“You know what I meant. It isn’t healthy,” Wax reminded him, and Wayne rolls his eyes.

“I am full of health, mate. The spitting image, some might say.” Wayne boasts.

Wax sighs, then lays Wayne flat against the table, decisive, but with a strange gentleness. “I suppose I’ll have to make this easy for you, then,” he says, eyes glinting. Arousal pools in his gut like hot liquid. 

Wax pushes into him slowly, carefully, but there’s a power in the movement, in finally coming together. Wayne exhales, and lifts his hips into the movement, watching the breach with fascination.

When Wax bottoms out, he holds there for a long, silent moment. Wayne wishes he could tell what was running through his head. Probably thinking too much, as Wax was prone to.

As Wayne was prone to, he began talking too much. “What’s the holdup, your quimstake broken?” He jokes. Wax looks up at him, confusion writ on his face.

“...My what?”

“Y’know. Your quimstake. Your bedfellow. Best leg of three. Dr. Johnson, gooser, man root, langolee, stempost, pecnoster, radish, jigger, Jack-in-the-box, diddle, come aloft, crack hunter, eye opener, bush whacker-”

Wax is half bent over him, hands braces on the table, shoulders shaking with barely repressed laughter. “No, no- my- my dick is not broken.”

“Surely it ain’t me jam?” Wayne asks, impressing mock horror in his voice.

“Your-“

“Me nettle bed, me prannie, me ineffable? Me ninepence, front entrance, bit on a fork, doodle, pit of darkness, duckpond, front parlor? Nicknack, naughty, catch em all alive-o, hatchet, enemy, blind eye-“

“No, your- everything is fine!” He wheezes.

“You sure? ‘Cause I wouldn’t want to put and end to our grouse here, our bit of red-“

“Yes, I am sure!” He emphasizes, and looks down at Wayne incredulously, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know so many words, Wayne, and yet, I am surprised so many exist.”

Wayne winks. “I know ‘em all, babe.”

Wax shakes his head, hair obscuring his expression. 

“In fact-“ Wayne begins.

Wax shuts him up with a kiss, and finally moves.

The feel of his cock inside Wayne is divine. He sends a quick prayer of thanks to whatever god cares to listen, that the human body was built with so many pleasure receptors.

Yet- although he’s moving, and that’s fantastic- he’s still going frustratingly slow. Both under and above, because this kiss, while pretty good all things considered, is a far cry from the flurry of teeth and tongue from earlier.

He tries to quicken things- snaps his hips up to meet Wax’s, nips at his bottom lip- but Wax stubbornly refuses. He pins Wayne’s hip in one hand, palm settled square over the jut of his hipbone, and continues that frustratingly gentle pace. 

“I told you,” Wax murmurs. “You’re taking it easy.”

“Am I?” Wayne challenges, but it’s all talk and they both know it.

The problem with this, was that Wayne has feelings. Which was why he was here in the first place, yet, but the scenario he had been imagining was something more along the lines of rough, fast sex, to take the edge of the really rather ridiculous state of pining that Wayne had found himself in. And eventually, yes, there would be an admission of feelings on his part and probable rejection on Wax’s part and Wayne could go back to the repression of said feelings. This whole idea had been a stretch. But he needed to do something or he was going to implode.

And although this was what he’d been desiring for- far longer than he wanted to admit, being face with the sudden reality of a possible, happier ending like this was... a bit terrifying.

And Wayne didn’t want to think. He wanted to be fucked.

But there’s nothing he could do. If he asked, Wax would most certainly stop, but he definitely doesn’t want that. And Wax will not listen to pleas of hurrying the pace, in determined denial of Wayne’s self destructive urges. All he has to do is just close his eyes, and move with his partner’s rhythm, and feel his release building, relieving and rusting fantastic and oddly heartaching in equal measure.

When he comes, it washes over his body like pleasantly warm water, and unwinds through his gut like a taut rope finally dropped slack. 

He vaguely hears himself moaning, something like Wax’s name slipping past his lips. His eyes flutter opens, and Wax is watching him with an expression akin to rapture. Wayne can’t meet that. He looks at at where they are joined instead.

Wax pulls out, cock slick with Wayne’s fluids, and wraps a slender fingered fist around his erection- firm upstroke, smooth downstroke. Wayne twines his hand around Wax’s, too, and they move together, and Wax reaches completion like, with eyes clenched closed and a groan and a muttered curse. His spend splatters across Wayne’s stomach, and he curiously scoops some up with his finger and tastes it. Salty.

He looks up to see Wax watching him again. He grins and shrugs.

Wax huffs, but he’s smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> oof  
> I’m still not happy with this  
> A, bc I did NOT know how to end it. assume there was cuddling.  
> B, bc I feel like I could do a lot better, but only with more buildup. Like, starting in the Roughs buildup. And also answering why Wax being married is apparently a nonissue here??  
> C, because I can apparently only write in super long, run on sentences, or short, choppy sentences.


End file.
